An hour later, in the town of Soldotna, Kit sat in a circle of women.

The room in the counseling center was soothing enough. The pale green walls, warm lighting, and thriving philodendrons created a calm atmosphere. Chairs upholstered in blues and greens sat a comfortable arm’s width apart in a circle.

And yet…

Group counseling sure wasn’t for cowards.

Across the circle from Kit, Fernanda cried while telling how she’d hidden in her house for a month after being raped. Unable to leave, unable to sleep, spiraling down and down. “And then my sister, she pounded on the door and used her key and came inside.”

“Oh, thank god,” someone whispered, and Kit felt the same.

“She…” Fernanda smiled a little. “Big sister. Bossed me into the shower, into eating, and when I couldn’t sleep, she crawled into bed with me. And eventually, I could tell her what happened.”

“Talking about it is hard, isn’t it,” Diana muttered and got a chorus of soft agreements.

“She was with me when I left the first time. Got me into a counselor.” Fernanda shook her head. “And I am back to work again.”

Kit joined in the gentle applause.

Every woman in the group was a survivor of sexual assault. Their attackers had been spouses, dates, and strangers. With some women, the abuse had occurred years in the past. A few, like Kit, were only weeks or months away from the assault.

Kit hadn’t felt as isolated as the others here, probably because the women in the PZ compound had been abused. To avoid being beaten, most of them submitted to their husbands and to the “cleansings” by Parrish and Nabera. And each time, she’d felt used. Like a thing. But at least she’d had the other women there. They’d offer each other silent support—a surreptitious pat on the shoulder, an extra ladle of soup, a quiet smile and sympathetic look. They all understood.

Shaking the thoughts away, Kit returned her attention to the circle of women.

Diana was talking about her husband. Last night, when he’d hugged her in her sleep, she’d panicked and run to the bathroom to vomit. He’d held her hair back and given her a washcloth to wipe her face.

Blinking away tears, Diana smiled at the group. “There really are nice men in the world. Now I just have to convince my body of that.” Huddling into herself, she whispered, “I just don’t know if I can.”

Remembering how Hawk’s silent gestures of support helped, Kit leaned over and offered her hand. “Need to hold on?”

Diana shook her head no, then choked on a laugh. “God, yes.” She gripped Kit’s hand hard.

Kit knew the relief of feeling anchored to someone else.

And deep inside, she could feel her own healing. She wasn’t broken completely if she could still help someone else.

Chapter Fourteen